


Learning to Breathe in Outer Space

by keerawa



Category: Orange is the New Black
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Space, Asexual Character, F/F, First Kiss, Misses Clause Challenge, Neurodiversity, Yuletide 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-06 14:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5420297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keerawa/pseuds/keerawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The application process was beyond competitive - over 750,000 candidates applied for the 500 slots on the first Alpha Centauri mission.  Suzanne figured those were pretty good odds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning to Breathe in Outer Space

**Author's Note:**

  * For [zopponde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/zopponde/gifts).



> Thanks to weakinteraction for the beta and to zopponde for inviting me to consider a sci-fi AU.

> **Candidate number:**  470255
> 
> **Given name:** Suzanne
> 
> **Surname:** Warren
> 
> **Alternative Names:** 'Crazy Eyes'
> 
> **Date of Birth:**   May 27, 2242
> 
> **Primary technical specialty:** EVA ship/station construction and repair (rated A3)
> 
> **Secondary technical specialty:** Spacesuit repair and maintenance (rated A1)

The candidate sat on a stool in front of a plain white wall.  She wore the same yellow jump suit as every other candidate; the attempt to reduce observer-bias was somewhat undermined by her distinctive bantu knots and the words 'Alpha Centauri or Bust' that she had scrawled across her top in what looked like engine grease.  She stared down at her hands folded neatly in her lap, bit her lip and mumbled under her breath until the interviewer cleared his throat.

"So, Suzanne, tell us why you want to join the expedition."

She looked directly into the vid pick-up and smiled while holding herself very still.  "Well, I've always wanted to go into space," she answered politely.  "Growing up, I'd sneak outside at night, when things got too intense at the crèche.  Other people, I think they mostly like to watch the stars.  And the stars are great.  But my favorite part was always the space between the stars.  I could tell there was a place out there for me.

I thought it'd be quiet out there.  Peaceful.    And it is.  When I'm EVA, nothing but me and my tools, I like to turn off the comms and lights for a minute, sometimes.  And then I can let go of everything and just breathe.  I can breathe out in space."

She froze, nostrils flaring.  Blinked twice. 

"I mean, not that I can breathe in a vacuum without a suit," she added hurriedly.  "That would be crazy."

She tapped her head and then pointed at the camera, nodding briskly.  "You need 4.3 psi with pure oxygen, 8.3 psi with a gas mix to minimize re-breathing. If you're on a surface with some existing atmospheric pressure, you might not even need the full suit.  This kind of mission, though, building a station out of nothing, in the middle of deep space?  That's my favorite."

She's more relaxed now, rocking back and forth on the stool, talking with her hands.  "Once you get out of the atmosphere, away from the gravity well, everything gets so much simpler.  Action-reaction.  Objects in motion staying in motion.  Thermodynamics.  All the laws of the universe are right there in front of you!"

The candidate stood up and gestured broadly to the ceiling above her, proclaiming:

_“The heavens themselves, the planets, and this center_  
_Observe degree, priority, and place,_  
_Insisture, course, proportion, season, form,_  
_Office, and custom, in all line of order."_

The candidate beamed at the vid pick-up and bowed, one hand behind her back.  "Troilus and Cressida, act 1, scene 3," she said proudly.  She glanced over at the interviewer and the smile slid from her face.

"Was that too much?" her face wrinkled, broadcasting her worry. "Because people tell me I can be a little too much, sometimes."  Without giving him a chance to answer, she decided, "Yeah, that was too much."  She plopped down onto the stool and folded her hands demurely in her lap.  "Let's go again.  Take two, from the top!"

The candidate looked expectantly at the interviewer, who appeared at a loss for words.   "Do you need me to feed you your line?" she offered.

_Berdie stopped the playback and checked the file, noting that there had been a total of six 'takes' recorded.  She chuckled and went to fetch some popcorn from the mess. Apparently the 'turn off the comms' comment had led to Suzanne Warren being rejected in the third round, but now that Berdie was reevaluating, she didn't think it was inexcusable for an EVA specialist to love the deep, dark silence of space._

> **Genetic Donors:** Dr. Amara Ndibe (mitochondrial), Dr. Uzoma Freeman
> 
> **Child Kinship Group:** The Warren Crèche
> 
> **Approved as Genetic Donor:** Yes (modify undesirable MAOA, FTCD variants)
> 
> **Approved for Child-Rearing:** No

 

Rec Room 137 was medium-sized.  There was a scattering of small groups of chairs, couches and tables, with an assortment of games and activities.  A long table of finger food and beverages lined the north wall.  Dozens of audio and visual pick-ups captured every square meter of the room.

The room was packed with 120 women ranging from sixteen to sixty years of age, all dressed in the yellow jumpsuits of expedition candidates.  An elder with bright red hair led a coterie in sampling and critiquing the consumables.  A group of younger women huddled around a holo-table, cheering and howling as two of their number's avatars battled in the holo-arena.  Mancala and yut nori, kalooki and bridge, chess and go, charades and Pictionary had each attracted players and observers.  

Suzanne sat alone at a small table, shoulders hunched, as she carefully arranged pieces of fruit on the table's surface.

Maureen Kukudio, a mousy young woman from the programming team, watched her for a moment before stepping up to the table.  "What are you doing?"

"Blocking out Hamlet," Suzanne answered absently, nudging a cherry further upstage.

"Which one's Ophelia?" Maureen asked.  "She's my favorite."

Suzanne looked up for the first time.  "You have good taste," she said, and held up a ripe red strawberry. 

Maureen took it and popped it in her mouth.  "Sorry," she said, covering her mouth as she chewed.  "I guess she met her tragic end a little early in this version?"

Suzanne barked a surprised laugh. 

"I'm Maureen," she added, sitting down across from Suzanne. 

"Suzanne," Suzanne said, pushing the plate of un-cast fruit towards her.

"Oh, thanks!  I've been living on Mars the past three years – fresh fruit is so expensive there.  Are you a director?" 

"No – an actor.  That's my primary specialty."

She watched Suzanne carefully select and place more pieces of fruit.  "You know, it's okay to be an introvert.  They don't hold that against you.  But my advisor said in these mixers, you have to make an effort to get to know different people.  They want to see us socializing, interacting outside of a work environment.  The expedition's a twenty-five year commitment, even before the relativistic effects.  They don't want to send a bunch of people who hate each other's guts."

Suzanne winced.  "I got that message loud and clear."

"What do you mean?"

"Dandelion and her friends over there," Suzanne said, nodding towards a group of women whose jumpsuits had been artfully hemmed and decorated.  "I thought we had a real connection, but she – I mean, yeah, she said she had a boyfriend, but he's not even a candidate, so it's not like that counts.  I figured she was just letting me know she was emotionally vulnerable, that she needed support.  And then today, in front of everybody, she said the evaluators wouldn't let 'stalkers' like me on the expedition."

"Wow, that's … kind of mean."

"Yes!" said Suzanne, nodding frantically.  "Thank you!"  She slumped back down and poked a blueberry.  "But, you know, sometimes people just don't want to play with you, and that's okay."

"Come on," Maureen said.  "I'll introduce you to Taystee and Poussey over there," she said, pointing out the pair dominating the game of charades.  "They're both into drama, too.  I bet you guys will hit it off."

Suzanne smiled.

_Berdie turned off the playback and sat down to make some notes._

 

> **Primary artistic specialty:** Performing arts, theatre, Shakespeare (rated B4)
> 
> **Secondary artistic specialty:** Performing arts, vocal (unrated)
> 
> **Orientation:** Homo-romantic, complex asexual
> 
> **Registered Kinship with the Following Candidate(s):** None

 

Maureen sat on the couch in Suzanne's quarters with Suzanne's head in her lap.  They were both reading their tablets. 

"Your application looks good," Maureen eventually decided, placing her tablet on the side table.  "Except for your secondary artistic specialty.  Your singing – it's unrated?"

Suzanne nodded, her hair brushing against Maureen's stomach, and chucked her tablet onto the bed across the room. "Every time I try to sing in front of an audience, I freeze up."

"Huh.  That's funny.  You don't get stage fright when you're acting, do you?"

"No, but when I'm acting, I'm being someone else.  That's the whole point.  When I sing, I'm all …" Her face contorted in an effort to express multiple, contradictory emotions all at once.  " _me_ ," she concluded. 

Maureen ran a thumb over the worried line of Suzanne's forehead and back into her hair.  "That's not a bad thing; I happen to like you.  But if singing is too personal, maybe you should try another art form.   Something written, maybe, instead of performing?   My secondary is poetry.  That's a good one,  'cause there's no wrong way to do it.  Even if you don't get a high rating, it'd be better than an unrated specialty."

"I wrote you a poem," Suzanne said, almost too quiet to hear. 

"What?"

"I wrote you a poem," she repeated louder.  Suzanne sat up, hands gripping at her cuffs.  "I've been waiting for the right time to perform it for you," she said.

"Now's a good time," Maureen said cheerfully.

"Now?" Suzanne asked, her voice breaking at the end of the word.

"Yeah, right now."  Maureen pulled her leg up onto the couch and turned to face Suzanne expectantly.

"Right now," Suzanne repeated.  "Yeah.  Okay.  I'm ready. Am I ready? Yes.  Yes I am."  She nodded several times before standing up, facing Maureen.  Suzanne took a deep breath, stared at Maureen's chin, and announced:

_"You are not a red, red rose._  
_You are algae._  
_Growing over me, into me, through me._  
_Colonizing my body and my mind as your own."_

There was a pause.  Maureen's lips twitched in an attempt at a smile.  "Well, that's … nice?"

"Shhh, I'm not done."  Suzanne looked her in the eye, hands and body moving almost in a dance, emphasizing individual words as she recited the rest.

 

_"Algae might not look like much,_  
_but it survives._  
_In deep space, in microgravity,_  
_Algae survives._

_It grows, and it thrives, and it gives._  
_Algae gives us protein and fiber._  
_Algae gives us oxygen._  
_Algae gives us life._

_What do we give back?_  
_Carbon dioxide, at least._  
_Form a closed system with me._  
_Let's see if we can survive,_  
_Breathing each other in."_

 

Suzanne sat down next to Maureen on the couch and leaned towards her.  She pressed her cheek to Maureen's, took one deep breath in, and let it out.

Maureen pulled back, tilted her head, and pressed a gentle kiss to Suzanne's lips.  There was a moment's awkwardness, noses and teeth clashing, before they aligned perfectly.  Maureen made a soft, eager noise, and the kiss went from gentle to heated.  Her hand gripped the back of Suzanne's neck and then drifted down her front to cup Suzanne's breast.

"Mmph," Suzanne protested, flinching back and away, coming to rest against the far armrest of the couch with her hands up.  "No," she said breathlessly.  "Not that."

Maureen crumpled back against the opposite arm rest, eyes wide.  "Oh crap.  I am so, so sorry Suzanne.  I really thought you wanted –"

"I do!" Suzanne insisted.  "I want you, I want this," she said, scooting forward to intertwine her right hand with Maureen's.  "I just don't want … that."  Her other hand shooed the nameless stuff away into the far corner of the room.  "I'm asexual."

"I know," said Maureen.  "But your file said, 'complex', so I thought you just needed to, uh, care for somebody first? You mean you really never …"

Suzanne doggedly shook her head no.

"And you don't think you ever will?"

"Probably not," Suzanne said miserably. "I didn't mean to, you know, waste your time, or lead you on, or anything.  I just really liked you."

"No, I don't … I don't think any of that, Suzanne.  I like you, too.  Do you want to be with me?  In a relationship?"

Suzanne bit her lip and then jerked her chin up to signal yes.

"Good.  That's good.  And were you okay with what we were doing before?  The cuddling?"

"Yeah.  I liked that a lot."

"Me too.  I would really miss being able to snuggle with you.  Come here," Maureen said, tugging Suzanne towards her on the couch.  They took a moment to settle in, Suzanne's head back on Maureen's lap.

For a long time there was nothing but the sound of their breathing, the breaths shifting slower and deeper as they calmed down.  Suzanne's eyes had drifted shut by the time Maureen spoke again.

"I've never been in an asexual relationship before," Maureen said.  "I guess I'm not sure how it would work.  Would you expect monogamy?"

Suzanne tensed up. "Depends what you mean.  If we're together, I need you to be mine.  You can have one-night stands, if you want.  Or casual sex, with a friend - I guess that'd be fine.  But I know that's hard for a lot of people, keeping sex and emotions separate."

"Huh.  Yeah, that's … I think I can do that.  I'm bisexual, but I've always had the worst track record, when it came to guys.  I'd fall for the hot ones that'd treat me like shit and then break my heart.  Going out looking for sex, just for fun, with no expectations would probably make things a lot easier.  As long as it wouldn't hurt your feelings."

"That'd be fine," Suzanne said.  "Maybe on nights when I'm rehearsing?"

"What about you?  Do you have … needs?  Do you ever, umm, take care of yourself? Jill off?" Maureen asked.

Suzanne's shoulders twitched in a shrug.  "Sure.  That's how I get to sleep most nights."

"What do you think about, when you're doing it?"

Suzanne peered up at Maureen suspiciously.  "Why?"

"I don't know.  Sex is the way I would get closer to girlfriends I've had before, get to know them and their bodies. I'm not gonna do anything you don't want, I swear.  I'd just like to hear about your fantasies, if that's all right."

Suzanne considered that for a minute.  "I guess that'd be okay," she agreed.  "I like to think about people having sex.  People who are not me," she clarified.  "I make up stories about them.  My favorite is Edwina.  She's this white girl with freckles all over and," she mimicked D-cups above her chest, "an ample bosom.   She can travel in time, forwards and backwards.  Last night I was imagining that she traveled into the future and got stuck on a military ship.  The soldiers thought she was a stowaway, maybe even a spy.  So they dragged her before their commander, Space Admiral Rodcocker.

He's big and bald, with a deep voice.  Edwina tried to convince him that she's not a spy, just an innocent time-traveler.   He told her, if she wants to stay on his ship, she'll have to earn her keep.    Only he said, 'No human female has ever been able to satisfy me.'  And Edwina, she's really, really good at sex, and kind of a slut, so she accepted the challenge.  He stripped his clothes off, matter-of-fact, not even trying to be sexy about it, with all his men watching them.  And then Edwina finds out where he got his name." 

Suzanne licked her lips, and held up two fingers in an ancient peace sign.  "Two cocks," she said with relish.

Maureen gazed down at Suzanne in awe.  "Holy fuck, that's hot."

 

_Berdie turned off the playback and marked the segment with a privacy seal._

 

> **Amendment**
> 
> **Secondary artistic specialty:** Writing, speculative fiction, erotic character-study (rating pending)
> 
> **Registered Kinship with the Following Candidate(s):** Maureen Kukudio #331274

 

Berdie walked into Sam Healy's office and sat down.  "I want candidate 470255 on the roster," she declared.

Sam put down his sandwich and wiped his mouth and hands with a napkin before pulling up the file on his tablet.  He grimaced.  "Crazy Eyes?  Absolutely not."

"She and her girlfriend, Maureen Kukudio, have amended their applications to register a kinship.  We decided last week that we need Maureen as one of the lead programmers for the expedition."

Sam shook his head.  "It'll be a shame to lose Kukudio, but I'm concerned about Warren's history of violence."

"Her last violent episode was four years ago," Berdie countered. "And that only occurred because of negligence on the part of the medical officer on her ship, who failed to order enough of Warren's medication to last the full six month tour.  She's stable, she's productive, and she will be an asset to the expedition."

Sam settled back in his chair.  "There's a reason they call her Crazy Eyes.  Have you seen that set of initial interviews?  The woman is not normal."

"You say that as if conforming to the mean constitutes some kind of moral superiority, which is bullshit," Berdie said passionately.  "That kind of thinking can result in a dangerous psychosocial monoculture.  Remember the Americans' first Mars expedition? It's the classic case study for why diversity is a necessity, not a luxury, on long-term missions."

Sam conceded the point with a nod.  "I hear you, but what about the pornography she's been circulating?  It's … disturbing."

"Ye-ah.  I'm certainly not a fan of the 'Time Hump Chronicles'.  If you check the net, though, you'll see that plenty of candidates are.  She has over 600 followers.  Her fans are carrying on in-depth discussions of every chapter.  Most are female, but aside from that her fan base includes all demographics.  I think the inter-group exchanges might be breaking down some of the social boundaries we've been concerned about."

Sam performed a quick analysis on his tablet.  Berdie tapped through her inbox while she waited.

"Interesting," Sam said.  "Look.  I can see you really like this girl, and you want to give her a chance.  But can we honestly recommend her for one of the most physically, emotionally, and intellectually challenging endeavors in human history?  Warren still has those 'bad days', and she always will."

Berdie opened her mouth.

"No," Sam interrupted her.  "Don't answer yet.  You're arguing.  And God knows you're great at arguing, Berdie, but this isn't about who wins.  It's about what's best for the expedition.  Think about it. Are you sure?"

Berdie stood up.  She paced to the far wall and back, to the far wall and back, making the most of the two meter gap.  Finally she leaned on the desk and stared down at Sam. 

"Yes, I'm sure.  Warren is aware of her triggers and reaches out for support when she needs it.  What's more, those triggers have almost no overlap with those of the average candidate, so when everyone else is losing their shit, she's at the top of her game.  It comes down to this:  if a decompression alarm were to go off right now, at this moment, would you want your suit to be one that was maintained by someone who was assigned the job as a punishment duty?  Or by Warren, who considers suit maintenance a pleasant meditative exercise and keeps every suit in her sector in perfect condition?"

Sam looked at her.  He sighed, pulled up the file for candidate 470255 on his tablet, pressed the 'Approved' button, and signed it.  "Can I finish my lunch now?" he asked plaintively.

Berdie laughed.  "Sure, Sam.  I'll see you at the planning session tomorrow morning."

 

> **Candidate number:**  470255
> 
> **Candidate status:**  Approved

 

Three days later the station clock ticked over to 0900.  Right on time, every candidate's tablet chimed a text alert.

Maureen picked Suzanne's tablet up off the floor and held it out to her.  Suzanne recoiled.

"I can't look.  I can't," Suzanne said, collapsing onto the bed.  "I should never have even applied.  What was I thinking?" She covered her eyes with her hands.  "You read it, Maureen.  Tell me what it says."

Maureen turned on her own tablet.  There was a gasp.  Suzanne peeked between her fingers.

"Approved," Maureen said in a dazed tone.

Suzanne sat bolt upright.  "What," she asked, incredulous.  "Are you sure?"

Maureen checked Suzanne's tablet.  "Yeah, it – right here.  We're approved.  We're both approved, Suzanne!"

Suzanne jumped up from the bed.  She whooped and swooped Maureen into a bear hug, pulling her off her feet with the force of it.  "We're going to the stars!"

_Berdie smiled, tears in her eyes, turned off the playback for the last time, and forwarded Suzanne's file to the head counselor for the Alpha Centauri expedition._

**Author's Note:**

> For any reader who isn't familiar with 'Orange is the New Black', here is a video of Suzanne in [all her glory.](https://youtu.be/sP6j8oRcAac) Enjoy!


End file.
